Inspired by a private conversation following a sharing of artistry and a discussion of deeply personal Path inspirations and influences.
There is a deliciously inspirational and creative moment when the eyes begin to blur and the mind is as though it is floating with a primordial tide, ebbing and flowing, between focus and Dreaming.
The Haze is a fitting way to describe this moment as it is when not just the vision begins to blur but other boundaries as well, those between the fettering Day and unfettered Night, where the stranglehold of the rational is loosened to allow the fertile, vigorous primordial ichor to seep in, gifting the wellspring, gifting the “...fertilizing power of the Nightside” (Tomas Vincente; from the foreword of ‘The Cult of the Black Cube’).
In emphasis, the Haze is not a forced naming, given to an unwilling moment in an attempt to rationalise it. Rather, the Haze is a descriptor, no more and no less. It is what it is, without definition secured and without limiting anchor.
Recent readings of fetisch have inspired a ravenous reconsidering of previous experiences and embracing of new ones, allowing intuitions and creative expressions to surface naturally rather than forced, as though brought into eye’s range and mind’s eye through eddies and ebbs, through the flow of the internal tide, filtering past the shackling of the “cosmic prison of isolation and exile” that is the strangling hold of the Spirit on the pleading, Dream-clutching, yearning Soul.
The Haze is, like water’s force, unstoppable once a certain point is reached; the point of balance to be found is that spot before sleep’s hold becomes absolute, and the body’s surrender is to rest. It is the delicious embracing of the abandonment of productivity’s yolk and tyranny (Clavis Saturni) or as near to it as possible within the moment, as unmeasured as it is unmeasurable. The enforced instinct to ‘clock-watch’ is discarded on the wayside, as are other foci that represent imposed structures and external demands; in the Haze, there is Dreaming, there is creation, and there is the immersion within the black waters, drawing it in as though ink mingling with blood’s passionate redness, precious liquid.
The Haze, cherished, a lover as a state, a force not to try and dominate but to yield to in the surrender of submission where there is interplay and exchange rather than letting things happen without generous giving in return, where the courter is paid heed to as the energetic source that it is. The Haze is not a creation of the mind trying to rationalise a moment where there is a struggle for control but instead a precious yielding to what is fought for, unfettered creativity and the seeing of things, the perceiving of inspirations, without the imposition of Day’s shackles.
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The Cult of the Black Cube referenced here is available from Theion Publishing – https://theionpublishing.com/shop/cbcube3ed/
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